


Help Me

by Athenias7294



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athenias7294/pseuds/Athenias7294
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Help Me

You were waiting. On your knees. Palms up. Head down. Serene. The perfect image of submission. Waiting for Sir. 

image  
This is how Steve found you when he walked through the door. You knew he would be surprised. But it wasn’t for him. It was for you. The noise in your head was too much. He could calm you, make you better, make it go away. 

Your voice was strained, “I need you Sir.”

“What’s the matter baby?” 

“I need you Sir.” 

He heard the desperation in your words. 

“What do you need.”

“I need you. Please Sir, help me.” 

Steve leaned against the counter. “I’ll help you but you will tell me what’s going on after. No excuses. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Yes, Sir. I understand.”

He reached down, grabbed your throat, yanked you up. “Let’s get started.”

————————————-

Arms above your head. Shoulder width apart. Legs spread. The rough texture of the rope. No padded restraints this time. He knew you needed the friction, that little something extra. Intricate knots binding, running up your calves, down past your elbows. Your stomach rested against the cross. 

“Look at you, all tied up like a Christmas present.”

You felt him at your back. His hand reached around, found your throat. The other hand roamed. First your tits. He wasn’t gentle. Pinching, pulling. Further down. His fingers dig into your pussy. Not one finger or two but three all at once. Inside you. Pumping. Palm rubbing against your clit. 

“DO NOT CUM.”

The pressure on your throat increases with each word. 

“Yes Sir.”

He goes faster. Presses down harder. You need to cum.It’s building. But you can’t. Sir said no. He knows best. 

A moan escapes you. 

“I SAID DO NOT CUM.”

His breath is on your neck. Not kissing but biting. Hard. He’ll leave marks. Your body betrays your mind. You tip over the line, shaking, moaning, thankful for the restraints that hold you. 

“That was a very bad girl. I told you not to cum. Look at what you did.”

Steve brought his hand to your face. It was covered in you. 

“You’re going to regret disobeying me.”

It makes an awful noise.

CRACK.

You can feel it before the whip touches your back. 

CRACK.

The tip curls, kissing your stomach.

Steve knows.

CRACK. 

You’ll have marks that last days. You wished they lasted weeks. Proof that Sir loves you.

CRACK.

Finally it breaks. Chaos flows out of you like lightening during a storm. Every strike brings tranquility. It’s overwhelming. Tears start to fall. 

Impatient now, Steve cuts the ropes. The knife catches you. Tiny rivulets of blood. 

You fall to the floor, legs unsteady. 

He undresses now. First the dress shirt, button by button. Then the pants.

“Get up.”

You try but can’t. It’s been too long. There’s no feeling. 

Hands in your hair, dragging you, throwing you on the bed. Face down, ass up. Just the way Steve likes his good girl. Legs pushed under you. Arms pulled back. He fucks you. Fucks you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. The twinges of pain mingle with the pleasure. 

“Do you want to cum. I can tell you’re close. Your cunt is getting tighter.”

Coherent thoughts are beyond you, words lay formless in your mouth. 

“I asked you a question. ANSWER ME.”

“Yes” you scream.

“Yes, Who.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve pulls you up, back to chest. His hand at your throat again. Fingers strumming your clit. He feels you tense up and squeezes tighter. You lose consciousness as your orgasm rips through you.

——————————————-

The water is warm. You open your eyes. His arms are around you, holding you, loving you. He knows you’re awake but says nothing, waiting for you to take the lead. 

“Hi” you whisper shyly.

“Hi.” 

No more words now. Steve washes your body, gently, the welts and cuts are fresh. He gets out, lifts you out, dries you off. Rubs you down with coconut oil. He wraps you in a plush robe, soft on your battered skin. 

Nestled against him, he carries you into the living room. You can hear his heartbeat. He settles the two of you on the couch, you on his lap, so he doesn’t lose contact with you. 

“I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you sweetheart.”

“You are such a good girl.”

The endearments are endless. He wants to make sure you know what you mean to him. 

“It’s time for you to tell me what started all this.”

You start to talk. The panic starts to infiltrate your peace. But Steve knows. His hand slips beneath your robe, finds your clit and gently strokes. Not rough, not hurried, just soft and slow. He kisses your forehead, your cheek and, at last, your lips. The words stop, they aren’t important now. Nothing matters except his fingers on your nub. The universe narrows. Your orgasm is languid, lasting. 

“I love you Steve. Thank you for helping me.”

His fingers start their tortuous dance around your clit once more.

“You’re very welcome sweetheart.”


End file.
